


Love Amidst the Wreckage

by Silent_So_Long



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Post-Apocalypse, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-19
Updated: 2011-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-26 06:59:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim travels across a zombie infected landscape in the hopes of finding Leonard still alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Amidst the Wreckage

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings: zombies, although nothing too gory, non-graphic m/m sex**
> 
> Written for the following anonymous prompt left upon buckleup_meme: [How come there aren't more apocalypse-fic for this pair? How about some post-apocalyptic (zombie or otherwise) romance, hmm? Doesn't even matter if its serious drama or comedy/parody stuff :)](http://buckleup-meme.livejournal.com/7569.html?thread=1371281)

The sounds of a lonely highway greeted Jim as he kicked his way through piles of leaves and garbage strewn across the asphalt beneath his feet. He tried to find a suitable place to stop, to build a fire and hide away from the world for a while and all that haunted its abandoned alleyways and open spaces alike. Finally he made his way through a wire fence, mostly ripped and torn down from its iron posts tethering it to the ground. He took shelter just inside the depths of a warehouse in the grounds he’d just entered, walls a solemn guardian against the chill of the night.

The silence was oppressive, almost depressing, yet at times, Jim found that silence quite handy. He could hear the approach of feet from a long way distant, and prepared himself accordingly. Of course, that hadn’t happened for several days now; Jim, at times, felt so utterly alone as to wonder if he was even still alive, wandering through a deserted level of Heaven that had no souls, no angels, no God to welcome him home.

All around him silent, abandoned buildings loomed, towering over him and making him feel smaller than he truly was. Those buildings, so silent, so abandoned and desolate made Jim Kirk feel small, alone in a destitute world that had long since stopped caring.

At times it felt to Jim that no one else was alive in the world, except for him, wandering aimless and alone. At yet other times, he spotted figures moving in the distance, scurrying and quick, gone before he could even take a few steps to join them. He’d tried shouting at them, of course, to attract their attention and at least gain some company for a while, yet none of them stopped. Each time that that happened, Jim would turn away, shoulders slumped in defeated sadness, laden rucksack seeming to weigh all the heavier upon his soul and his body both.

At still other times, he saw the zombies, of course. Jim didn’t know where they’d originally come from; all he did know was that there had been some kind of viral outbreak from a scientific outpost somewhere in the Deep South. Some people said it was Alabama, others said it was Louisiana, while still others said it was Georgia. No one truly knew, and every time that the word - Georgia - passed anyone’s lips in the early days, Jim felt a twinge in his chest.

Georgia was his second home. Georgia was where his heart belonged. Georgia was where Leonard had been when the outbreak had first started. It was where Jim himself should have been, if Starfleet hadn’t called him across country and several states to San Francisco to oversee a few new tests that Jim had helped to devise for the new cadets. He’d hated to leave his husband, yet knew his ties with Starfleet couldn’t be ignored. He’d still been in San Francisco when the first wave of zombies had hit.

They hadn’t stood a chance; no one had. The weakest fell first - children, the sick, the old, all of those that couldn’t run far enough nor fast enough to outwit even the slow, shambling, almost mindless zombies. Those poor unfortunate souls who were bitten were soon infected by the very virus the zombies were carrying, turning into zombies themselves. And so the infection had spread, claiming all and sundry except for the strongest, the most resistant to disease, and the cleverest; the ones who were quick runners and especially good at hiding.

Jim had been one of the last, finding new and inventive ways to ward off attack and find effective ways to hide. Years of fighting hostile aliens and wielding strange weapons in space had taught him that much. He felt the pain of loss like a quick blow to the abdomen when he thought of the people who hadn’t had the same training that he had, which included the majority of America.

Those left alive after the second, third, fourth waves of zombies had long since gone to ground. Jim knew that he should have been one of them, but sheer stubbornness and need to find Leonard drove him ever onwards. He couldn’t rest until he was by the doctor’s side again, to know that he was alright, and in one piece. The fact that Leonard was a doctor gave Jim some hope; Leonard would know how to look after himself and those immediately around him, to stay safe and to know the best effective ways to fight back and immobilize any enemy. Jim had to cling to those hopes with everything he had; after all, he had little else to go on. Communications had gone down within the first week of the viral zombie outbreak. His communicator no longer worked; it wouldn’t reach the Enterprise, nor any of Starfleet, nor the most important man to Jim - Leonard. Jim was cast adrift in a sea of silence with no hope of hailing for help, for love or even company.

He moved at night and for short sharp bursts during the daytime, at high noon when the zombies were least active. They didn’t seem to like the heat of midday nor the darkness of night. The darkness hampered their already shambling slow gait, making it impossible for them to move effectively. Jim had used that to his advantage, heading across country at night towards Georgia. He didn’t know what he’d do if he arrived at their house in Atlanta, and his husband wasn’t there, dead, or worse, turned into one of the zombies most people feared, or at least they had, when they’d been alive. Every time that Jim thought of Leonard, his fingers immediately reached for his wedding band, fiddling with the familiar circular metal, praying with every last hope that he had that Leonard was safe.

Jim stopped when he could, ate when he could, ate what he could. Most things had turned rancid and inedible now - meat, fish, vegetables and fruit had long since been off the menu for Jim. Instead he’d raided every last grocery store that he could find, taking packaged goods and canned items, cooking the beans and canned spaghetti over carefully shielded fires in case of zombie intruders. It was the bleakest existence Jim could ever imagine, yet he kept himself going with the thought of Leonard; hazel eyes staring at him softly, large, confident hands pressing against him and a wry mouth that was quick to smile and even quicker to spit out sarcastic comments, mostly directed at Spock.

Spock.

Jim wondered what the Vulcan was doing, whether he even knew what was happening upon Earth, whether he even cared. The Science Officer had been recalled to New Vulcan, to oversee the re-building of the Vulcan way of life alongside Sarek. If news had filtered through to New Vulcan, then Spock hadn’t thought it logical to check upon his captain nor the Chief Medical Officer. Jim’s thoughts shifted to Uhura, to Scotty, to Sulu and ever outwards to people he’d known aboard the Enterprise and had been proud to call his comrades. Even though his main objective had been to find Leonard, the rest of his crew had never been far from his mind. He’d had no word about any of them either and didn’t know if they even were still alive.

He turned away from the flickering flames of his most current fire, tears blinding his gaze as he tried not to think of what might have befallen them all. He couldn’t help them now, even if they were in trouble. They were all too far away, inaccessible now to even call upon him for help. His main objective, now as ever was to get to Leonard. After that, it would be an executive decision between them both as to what they would do once they were reunited. Jim steadfastly refused to think of - if they were reunited.

The heat of the flames kept his back warm as he dozed fitfully, finally sliding into the arms of sleep, where he dreamt of Leonard and all he could see was his husband’s face, smiling at him.

~~~~

Dawn broke, unannounced and unnoticed by the sleeping Jim, carefully shielded from the light and the snow that threatened to drift down outside. While flakes drifted lazily down, none of them settled, and they soon gave up the fight and stopped. A zombie shambled by, nose flaring as it scented the warm body of Jim. Unable to work out the simple motion of heading inside the building, the zombie moved on. Zombies, after all, chose easy prey, clearly in plain sight and easy to run down in open spaces. Jim slept on, unaware of how close to death he’d come.

~~~

Three days later, and Jim was walking through the streets of Atlanta, past the abandoned Aquarium, long since emptied of its dolphins, sharks and other sea mammals and fish. Jim felt a pang of regret for that; no dolphin had deserved the fate that had undoubtedly befallen those inside the Aquarium. The zoo was the next abandoned enclosure he saw and Jim’s brain stoically kept silent, trying not to notice the shattered glass that was everywhere, and the rent-open cages. He hoped that the lions and tigers and bears inside had taken down a few of the zombies on their fight out. He did receive some savage satisfaction at that thought.

He toiled through still leafy avenues of houses, trees shedding leaves down as he passed. Eventually he came to the house he shared with Leonard, unmitigated joy seeping through him at the sight of a lone, guttering candle in the window. That had been a pre-agreed sign between Leonard and Jim from years in their shared past, a kind of secret signal to the other to indicate whether they were home or not. Jim hoped that it truly was Leonard inside the house, and not someone entirely different, torturing the relevant information from the kind-hearted doctor in order to trap Jim himself.

Jim didn’t have to worry for long. The door to the house creaked open and Leonard’s face peered out. Leonard looked almost the same as he ever did, albeit a little more tired and care-worn than he’d been when Jim had seen him last. Jim didn’t care however; all that mattered to him was that Leonard was alive. His bags fell to the floor with an echoing, too loud clatter as Leonard made his way quietly onto the pathway leading up to the house.

“Jim?” Leonard asked, in the tone of voice that questioned his own eyesight and sanity. “Dammit, Jim, is that really you?”

“No one else I’d rather be, Bones,” Jim replied, walking forward slowly, despite the fact that every atom inside him willed him to run to Leonard, to catch him in a crushing hug and plant an equally crushing kiss against his husband’s mouth.

“Jim,” Leonard said again, and for one brief moment, it looked as though he was about to say more.

Instead, he just stared, large hazel eyes roving over Jim’s body as the other man walked closer, obviously checking Jim over for injuries or disease.

“I’m fine, Bones, just weary,” Jim said. “I came when I could. I had to walk.”

“From San Francisco?” Leonard asked, in surprise.

Jim nodded, as he stopped directly in front of Leonard. Everything about the doctor was as Jim remembered; his aftershave still surprisingly strong and musky in the evening air, his warmth, his kind hazel eyes beneath frowning brows and a shock of dark hair. Jim tried not to notice the extra worry lines that creased around Leonard’s eyes and bisected his forehead, knowing those lines were because of him.

“I couldn’t get in touch with you. I was worried,” Jim said, in order to fill the silence.

“What the devil do you think I was going through, Jim? I hadn’t heard from you, couldn’t get a hold of you, I thought you were dead. I’ve been going out of my mind with worry here,” Leonard said, anger replacing the concern of moments before.

“I know. I love you too,” Jim said, more morosely than he’d meant it to sound.

Leonard didn’t reply; instead he reached out with long arms and pulled Jim into a bone-crushing hug, wrapping Jim in that embrace that always made Jim feel safe, saved, special. He slid his arms about Leonard’s waist, leaning his head against Leonard’s shoulder, nose resting against the other man’s neck and inhaling the musky scent of Leonard and of home.

“I missed you so much, Jim,” Leonard ground out into his ear, as he pressed a smacking kiss against Jim’s temple.

“I missed you too,” Jim said sadly. “I was so scared that you wouldn’t be here when I got here, but I couldn’t not come.”

“I’m glad you did. Now come on inside. Bring your stuff,” Leonard said, as he gestured to Jim’s bag left abandoned and forgotten upon the path.

Jim nodded, wordlessly and snatched it up with its handles, dragging the now half-empty bag behind him. He could hear the rattle of the tin cans inside, plastic bottles half filled with various drinks sloshing together and he felt some scant satisfaction that he hadn’t returned home entirely empty-handed. The lounge when Jim entered it was surprisingly warm, in comparison from the cold he was used to outside and he smiled, eyes drifting shut as the fire and shadows in the room played out over his stubbled cheeks and tired face. He felt the firm tug of Leonard’s hand against his bag and he allowed the other man to take it away from him, setting the half filled bag to one side with a clatter.

“Dammit, Jim, what the devil have you got in there?” Leonard asked in surprise.

“Supplies,” Jim replied, still smiling. “Canned goods and bottled drinks have been keeping me going for weeks.”

“How is it out there?” Leonard asked, as he gestured towards the streets outside, which were, even now, darkening by degrees.

Snow was falling in earnest now, no longer the feeble flakes of prior days, but proper, fat gobbets that stuck to everything. Jim shivered despite the heat from the fire, only too glad to be away from the ferocity of the snowstorm, at least. He decided that his timing couldn’t have been more perfect, both for finally seeing his husband again and for escaping that storm.

“Not good,” Jim replied, when Leonard looked about ready to repeat his earlier question. “I haven’t heard from the others in weeks. Most other people are given over to the zombies and the zombies themselves have the ruling of the cities.”

Jim was about to explain further yet Leonard waved his hand before him and said - “You’d best get yourself cleaned up, kid. You look like you need a hot bath and a decent meal inside you. You can tell me afterwards.”

“You have running water?” Jim questioned in surprise.

“Nah, what d’you think I am? I’m a doctor, not a magician,” Leonard said, with a snort. “I have a fire, a Victorian style tin bath and a large cooking pot. That’s seen me a few baths, I can tell you.”

“I bet,” Jim replied, wondering where the hell Leonard had found a tin bath from.

He decided that Leonard must have found it on a scavenging run, in much the same way as Jim himself had managed to find a few treasures of his own on his travels. The doctor was nothing if not resourceful when pushed into it. He watched as Leonard set himself the task of filling up his cooking pot with water, boiling it over the fire and dumping it into the tin bath set up in the kitchen. It took him several runs before the bath was sufficiently full to accommodate Jim’s body.

The water itself was pleasantly warm against Jim’s skin as he slid beneath the surface, and he relished the feel of taking a proper bath for the first time in weeks, Every other wash he’d taken had been fleetingly snatched while on the road, in rivers, in public swimming pools if they’d still been partially filled, beneath dripping gutters. All had been invariably cold, leaving him shivering beneath his clothes until the motions of walking warmed him up again. None of those experiences had a patch on the bath he was currently taking, however.

Leonard watched him, smiling slightly, even as he pitched in to help with a particularly hard place to reach upon Jim’s back. Jim allowed the other man to partially bathe him, eyes closing as Leonard’s strong hands skimmed over his shoulders and back, fingers kneading taut knots out of his muscles as he did so. Jim sighed, body loose, relaxed and impossibly comfortable.

Leonard finally left him, after pressing a kiss to Jim’s temple, inhaling the fresh wet scents of his husband. Jim reached up and cradled the side of Leonard’s head with one wet hand, fingers splaying in damp lines against the doctor’s face. Leonard turned his face lightly and kissed the palm of Jim’s hand in an intimate gesture, soft lips lingering against the wet skin, before the contact moved away. Jim made a displeased sound at the loss of contact and Leonard threw a grin over his shoulder.

“You want feeding, don’t you? Dammit, Jim, I wouldn’t be much of a host if I couldn’t feed my own husband,” he said.

Jim sighed melodramatically but didn’t fight against the inevitable food. He realized then just how hungry he was, and how much he had missed Leonard’s cooking. While the scents of food filled the house from where Leonard was cooking over the fire, Jim sloshed his way out of the bath and dressed himself in a pair of fresh clothes pulled form the bedroom closet upstairs. He paused long enough to shave and returned downstairs in time for Leonard to serve up.

Jim then proceeded to tell him of all that happened in the last few months, to which Leonard listened avidly, hand dipping and rising occasionally to snag Doritos from their package in his lap. The doctor looked aghast at the way society had fallen apart so rapidly in San Francisco, even more concerned when Jim had reiterated that he hadn’t heard from the others at all.

In time, Leonard told Jim of all that had happened in Atlanta, yet his tale was unsurprisingly similar to Jim’s. The zombies had raided the entirety of Georgia, killing, often eating all that they could catch and infecting the rest, until there were only a few uninfected people left. At first, Leonard had been able to keep the peace and health going, treating all who would come to his door without question or complaint. It was when these prospective patients began being picked off by zombies that they’d stopped coming, too frightened to approach his door to be treated. Leonard himself hadn’t been able to step outside for long, zombies seemingly on every corner, lurking and ready to pounce.

Jim’s face was stoic and thin lipped as he listened to Leonard’s account of all that had happened, silently taking in all that the other man had to tell him. He listened as Leonard admitted that he’d almost been attacked himself while returning from a food run, only just making it behind locked doors before the zombies could get him. Upon his next forays into town, scavenging all that he could to keep himself fed and watered sufficiently, he’d noticed the population, such as it currently stood, gradually dwindling. He could only ascertain that they’d either moved on to safer climes, died from illness or had been eaten by the zombies. Jim had heaved a heavy sigh at that, a faint frisson of distress settling into his gaze.

“We’re really alone, aren’t we?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Leonard said, honestly. “All we can do is pin our hopes on Spock. He’s still on New Vulcan, right?”

Jim nodded wordlessly.

“He knows where we live. I hope to God that pointy eared bastard comes to get us,” Leonard said, jaw visibly clenching with the need to say - before its too late.

Jim was glad that Leonard hadn’t finished off his own sentence, yet the implications hung heavy between them all the same. To change the subject, Jim stood and reached for the package of cupcakes, smiling as he handed Leonard one of them.

“They’re still relatively fresh,” Jim said, as he settled beside the other man.

Leonard grunted, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he leant a little closer to Jim, while biting thoughtfully into his cupcake. Leonard’s gaze rested upon the fire before them, watching the flames flicker and dance in the grate. He felt Jim moving before feeling the unmistakable press of the other man’s mouth against his jaw. Leonard sagged, feeling relief seeing through him at even that minimal contact. He turned his face slightly, lips millimetres from Jim’s own, gaze purposefully resting upon the other man’s mouth. Jim closed the distance between them, pressing chaste kisses upon Leonard’s mouth, kisses soon turning needy, hungry, desperate.

Their cupcakes were left abandoned, as Jim leant his whole weight against Leonard,, hand rising to cup the back of the other man’s head, fingers lacing through Leonard’s dark hair. Jim broke away, lips swollen and kiss-reddened, breath short and gasping in his throat.

“God, Bones, I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he said, before his lips crashed against Leonard’s, cutting off the words that Leonard was about to say in return.

Leonard allowed Jim to manoeuvre him back upon the floor, Jim’s body a crushing weight on top of him, yet he didn’t mind. Jim felt so real, so alive, so inescapably human against him, he’d rather the shortness of breath than not having Jim there at all. He felt Jim unbutton his shirt, hands delving beneath the material and brushing against every scrap of skin he could find. Leonard hissed when he felt Jim brush against his nipples, moaned when Jim’s mouth locked against his neck, sucking desperate bruises into the skin there. Jim began kissing his way back up Leonard’s jawline, leaving teasing, tempting little nips and kisses in his wake.

“Jim,” Leonard said, voice wrecked and breathlessly needy. “Please.”

Jim hummed out a note of amused agreement, snuggling close to Leonard as he pressed his lips against Leonard‘s again. Leonard enjoyed the soft play of lips and tongues, teeth nipping playfully at kiss-bitten mouths, yet his body was impatient for so much more, a deep craving for Jim coiling through him. When they finally made love before the flames of a dying fire, their bodies moved in desperate frantic rhythm, gasps and deep aroused moans filling the air around them, dropping from parted lips and clutching hands moving ceaselessly, possessively. Sweat-slick skin moved against each other, heat coiling through them and from them as they drew closer to climax. Leonard knew then that if they died the next day, at least he’d die happy, with Jim by his side where he belonged.

When the love-making was finally over, Jim lay beside Leonard, tracing tickling circles over Leonard’s bare chest, the other man’s arm a comforting weight around his body. Leonard was mostly asleep, eyes drifting lazily beneath sleepy lids, chest rising and falling in sated, happy rhythms, lips parted to emit huffing, slow breaths.

“I love you, Bones,” Jim said, quietly, even though he suspected that the other man was too drowsy to hear him.

Leonard smiled all the same, a sleepy curl to his lips as he turned just enough to peck a sloppy kiss against the end of Jim’s nose.

“Love ya, too, darlin’,” he mumbled, before drifting finally off into sleep.

Jim smiled and settled his hand against the other man’s clavicle, curling possessively around Leonard’s body and resting his head against his shoulder. Jim knew that if they died tomorrow then he’d die a happy man. Somehow, deep inside himself, he knew that they would survive.

~~~

Over the coming weeks, they remained in their house, mostly shut out from the world. Occasionally,. they would see a zombie shambling past, rotting body an ominous portent of what was still happening outside. Every time that they saw one, or perhaps several if they happened to be travelling in groups, Jim and Leonard would fall silent, unsettled by the ever-present threat right outside their very door.

If ever they had the need to step outside, on a food run, or to get more toiletries, they went together, phasers and home-made clubs to hand. Thy managed to avoid most of the zombies, coming close to nearly being killed on three occasions. Every time, they managed to attain the safety of cover, chests heaving, hearts racing, eyes wide as they waited for another attack, an attack that never came.

Leonard was obviously run ragged by the constant tension, anger barely repressed beneath a carefully controlled patient exterior. He tried not to lose his temper with Jim, yet Jim knew that anger was there all the same. Whenever Leonard did shout at him, blowing off the necessary steam, Jim took it, patiently, until the storm was over. Every time, Leonard would come to him, with open arms and silent apology, mouths meeting and parting in apologetic kisses. Jim also wouldn’t complain about the hot make-up sex afterwards.

The day that would have been Christmas rolled inexorably closer and Jim began to wonder if they would celebrate. Leonard, when asked about it, saw little need for the celebrations, yet relented when he saw the wounded puppy dog expression settle within Jim’s eyes. He nodded, finally, knowing that they had to at least have something to look forward to, some light in the darkness of their lives as they stood at that point in time. Jim’s grin after Leonard reluctant acquiescence was worth that one nod alone, in Leonard’s opinion.

Day by day they made their plans, making do with whatever scraps of tinsel they could find about the house, cutting fresh mistletoe from the bushes in the park, and stocking up on enough food as they could manage to salvage. Still, it would be a poor affair in comparison to previous Christmases, with packaged dry food, no turkey and only the two of them at the party. Somehow, neither Leonard nor Jim cared all that much; the day was as much for celebrating Christmas as it was for celebrating the fact that they still were alive.

~~~~

Christmas day broke the same time as it ever did and Jim was the first to see the thick covering of snow outside. Flawless white covered everything in eerie silence, unbroken by anything at all. Jim stared, before he called out to Leonard still laying in bed behind him.

“Bones,” Jim said, sharply.

Leonard hummed out a note that indicated he was listening, rolling over slightly as he stared through sleep-droopy eyes at his husband. Jim padded back to sit upon the side of the bed, smiling when the other man draped one heavy arm lazily over his thighs. Jim played with Leonard’s long fingers, running his own fingertips up and down their long lengths, playing with Leonard’s wedding band and the ring he always wore on his pinky finger as he spoke.

“You notice the zombies haven’t been so active in recent days?” Jim posited slowly, thoughtfully, as he stared down at Leonard’s sleep flushed face.

“No. What of it?” Leonard mumbled, hazel eyes staring blearily up at him.

“Perhaps the cold inhibits their movements,” Jim said, with a shrug. “It’s snowing outside, and the snow hasn’t been marked by footprints.”

“Maybe you’re right, but I don’t see how that helps us out any, Jim,” Leonard said, with a weary, almost sad sigh.

Jim didn’t reply, defeat a clear and heavy weight upon his drooping shoulders. He knew that Leonard was right; if the snow genuinely did inhibit the zombies’ movements, then there still wasn’t a damn thing that could be done about it. Leonard grumbled wordlessly, and tugged impatiently at Jim’s thigh, a clear indication that the other man should return to bed. Jim complied, sliding beneath the covers as Leonard settled his arm around him, mouth latching onto Jim’s neck in warm kisses. Jim tried to resist, tried to think of a way to turn the cold-hating zombies into a solution the remainder of the survivors, yet Leonard was too hard to resist. When the doctor wanted Jim to notice him, then the doctor was very hard to ignore.

Jim turned into Leonard’s kisses finally, mouths open and wet, mostly silent bar the soft sounds of lips meeting and parting and the odd rumbling groan of enjoyment. Kisses soon turned into caresses, caresses soon turned into touches more intimate, intimate touches turned into making love. Jim found Leonard hard to resist when he was like this, a warm, heavy, comforting weight over him and inside him, bodies gentle and movements tender in a snow-bound house at Christmas.

~~~~

They were still wrapped up in post-sex sheets when Spock suddenly arrived. Leonard was the first to see him and he sat up, an angry scowl turning his face stormy and dark as he grappled the sheets over his lap and the mostly drowsing form of Jim beside him.

“Dammit, man, are you out of your Vulcan mind?” Leonard shouted at Spock. “You ever hear of knocking?

“Fascinating. I might assure you that I did try communicating with you, but your communicators strangely are not working. I knocked at your front door and received no answer, and was met with silence when I called out for you. I saw no other choice but to beam inside,” Spock replied, calmly.

“Beam inside? You beamed into our damn bedroom, Spock,” Leonard yelled. “This is our private room, man.”

“Bones,” Jim mumbled, laying a hand upon Leonard’s chest in an obviously calming gesture.

Leonard turned his glare upon Jim, but that did not stop Spock from saying what he did next.

“Ah. I take it I was interrupting human sexual practices,” Spock stated. “How quaint.”

“Quaint? Quaint, the man says. Spock, I assure you, there ain’t nothing quaint about sex with Jim,” Leonard replied, turning angry hazel eyes upon Spock.

“Bones, I can’t believe you just said that,” Jim groaned, in disbelief.

“I believe the doctor was actually paying you a compliment, if a rather veiled one at that,” Spock assured the captain, seemingly unabashed by the fact that he’d walked in on Jim and Leonard after their very obvious bout of love-making.

“Huh,” Jim said, as he turned a smile up at Leonard.

“Don’t let it go to your head, kid,” Leonard growled, uncomfortably.

Jim grinned at that, but kept his silence.

“What took you so long to get to us, anyway? We were being savaged by zombies down here,” Leonard groused as he stared at the Vulcan.

“Savaged? Both of you look perfectly fine to me, Doctor, if a little sweaty,” Spock replied, raising one disbelieving eyebrow.

Jim’s hand was a placating squeeze against Leonard’s bicep, the only gesture that the doctor seemed capable of heeding. The anger, however, did not dissipate from his gaze.

“As you are well aware, I was detained upon New Vulcan, speaking with the Science Council and organizing the structure of our society from the ground up. That required several months of logical thinking and much attention on all our behalf, in no small part my own and my father’s,” Spock replied, as calm as ever. “When it came time to return to Earth, it was to discover that most of the planet’s inhabitants seem to have vanished, and zombies in their place. Why is this?”

Leonard was the one to explain to the curious Vulcan every last detail about the virus outbreak from an as yet undetermined source, which had started as a leaked vial of a particularly virulent strain of flu. That strain of flu had soon mutated into something increasingly more virulent than that. Thousands had died, before anything could be done, but by then it was too late. The virus had mutated so much, and so fast, that it was hard to simulate inoculations fast enough before the virus mutated yet again. The zombies changed with the times, infecting more people with each new strain of flu, until all that was left of humanity were those scant survivors that had managed to scrape a meagre existence.

Spock listened with clinical, scientific observation, yet he did not deliver the usual epithet of fascinating as he was wont to do. Instead, he resorted to logic once more.

“It is clear that humanity needs to be saved,” he observed. “I shall get my people upon the problem post haste. First of all, I need to see to you, first. Get yourselves marginally presentable.”

“Only if you stand outside,” Leonard said, darkly. “No way in hell am I letting you see what I’m packing.”

“Packing, Doctor?” Spock asked, genuinely confused.

“He means he’s got a big - “ and Jim’s words were muffled by the descending hand of Leonard against his mouth.

“Ah. I see. Only you would know that, Jim,” Spock replied, with only an eyebrow lift to Jim’s statement.

“And it’s staying that way,” Leonard grumbled. “Dammit, Spock, I’m a doctor, not an exhibitionist. Get your pointed ears out of my bedroom.”

“As you wish,” Spock acquiesced formally, before leaving the room.

It didn’t take long for Jim and Leonard to dress, clothes still a little in disarray when they joined the Vulcan outside. Spock did not comment upon the fresh hickey that adorned Leonard’s neck in full view, although his one arched eyebrow spoke volumes. Spock then revealed that the Enterprise was orbiting with Scotty at the helm. The Vulcan had found it necessary to have the kindly engineer aboard first, to monitor the upkeep of the ship and to handle the transporter bay in Spock‘s absence. Jim had nodded at the Vulcan’s executive decision, expressionlessly.

Jim then made the call up to the Enterprise using Spock’s communicator before they beamed aboard. They were greeted by the smiling face of Scotty in the transporter bay. Jim was the first to step forward and hug the Scottish engineer, genuinely glad to see the kindly man again after so long. Leonard merely gave Scotty a brief nod of greeting.

After that, the others began to arrive in dribs and drabs, beamed aboard from Japan (Sulu), Russia (Chekov), Africa (Uhura) plus various other spots about the globe. Amazingly they’d all survived, although most remained quiet and jaded for days after what they’d witnessed. Neither Jim nor Leonard could blame them for that; after all, neither of them spoke much either, and it took them a few days to get out of the habit of shoring up in one or other of their quarters for hours on end out of sheer force of habit of expecting to see zombies outside.

Jim began the necessary motions to speak to Sarek and other Vulcan dignitaries. Between them, they organized the evacuation of the remaining living humans upon Earth, which was a bitter reminder of what had happened with the Vulcan home planet some months before. No one dared to make that comparison aloud however; instead they got on with their business. Jim ventured onto the bridge, feeling the surrounds of the ship he loved so much soothing his nerves. Leonard started making his rounds, checking up on all of the crew members still alive, making sure they were coping sufficiently.

Starfleet were notified of the tragedies perpetrated upon Earth, and they responded with several transporter ships, helping to ferry survivors out to new worlds, leaving the zombies to their own devices upon the surface. Jim oversaw it all, Leonard a stormy constant presence beside him, until the last human stepped from home turf into grounds unknown. The Vulcans stationed some of their best advisors upon the New Earth, to help the survivors acclimatize to their new surroundings. It had been at Starfleet’s behest that they do this, considering that the Vulcans had suffered the same fate such a short time in their past. Jim, Leonard and the remainder of the depleted Enterprise crew did all that they could to help the survivors in turn, building up a second home of their own in the meantime, to replace those they‘d been forced to leave behind.

Finally, it was time for the Enterprise to move on, heading back out into space once more, fully manned with the best that Starfleet could currently offer them. The memories of their seclusion amongst the virulent walking dead remained, long after Earth and New Earth had become but pin-pricks lost amongst the stars. Those, too, would fade given time, yet the lessons learned, of survival, of friendship, of love remained long after the memories faded.

~~ the end ~~


End file.
